


th(igh)

by ritsuizuleo (nightfullofstars)



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, very inappropriate uses of kitchens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfullofstars/pseuds/ritsuizuleo
Summary: There's a time and place for these things, both of which Ritsu has a notorious habit of overlooking or just choosing to ignore entirely.[Happy birthday, Ritsu!!]





	th(igh)

**Author's Note:**

> years come and go but my love for ritsu sakuma is forever.
> 
> thanks as always to deco for looking over this AND for bearing with my first completed attempt at smut in years, lmao. and thanks to ritsu for....... driving me to challenge myself................... and emptying my wallet................................ i love you

“Secchan’s legs are pretty lewd, huh.” 

It takes a considerable amount of skill, Izumi thinks, for him to not accidentally knock his coffee clean off the counter. Not that skill is anything he's ever lacked, of course, but the point still stands. Of all things, these words are the first Izumi hears from Ritsu all morning; furthermore, the morning following them staying the night at Izumi’s parents’ home. Perhaps he's not fully awake yet, considering he hasn't actually  _ drank _ any of the prepared coffee, and is only dreaming Ritsu’s wholly inappropriate -- not to mention misplaced, when he's wearing the least “lewd” sweatpants he owns -- remarks, but twisting to face the source of the words proves that such isn't the case. 

Soon as Izumi’s gaze finds him, Ritsu smiles, cocking his head the same way an innocent child would.

“You're up early,” Izumi says, with one quick glance towards his parents’ clock. It’s the same one they had when he was growing up, and it's easier to focus on that than trying to deem Ritsu’s comment with any kind of response. In the same way, looking at his parents’ coffee machine is easier than looking at that annoyingly coy expression on Ritsu’s face, so he shifts to face the counter once more, reaching for his mug’s handle. “Do you want coffee?” But, ah, Ritsu has always been more of a tea person, so he goes to turn on the kettle instead. “Tea? Mama normally keeps orange pekoe...”

There's the slightest pad of slippers hitting the tiled floor before Izumi’s very aware of Ritsu standing just behind him, pale arms loosely wounding themselves around his waist. “Nooot interested,” Ritsu sing-songs, leaning against Izumi in full. Cold fingers graze his stomach as Ritsu begins to toy with the ends of Izumi’s shirt, a stark contrast to the rush of heat the touch prompts from Izumi. “This morning, all I want is Secchan~”

It's almost always nice, having Ritsu pressed against him like this; “ _ almost _ ” being the key word, because there's a time and place for these things, both of which Ritsu has a notorious habit of overlooking or just choosing to ignore entirely. While the weight and presence of another body is hardly unwelcome, it doesn't take a genius to guess at Ritsu’s motives -- especially not when he had greeted Izumi the way he did -- so, well, Izumi figures maybe a reminder of said time and place won't hurt. “You do know where we are, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Ritsu hums, and Izumi can't help but feel a bit scandalized when his hands dip beneath his sweatshirt regardless. Pressing one chaste, almost careful kiss to the rim of Izumi’s ear, he continues, “But Mama and Papa aren't home...?”

“Don't call them that,” Izumi grumbles, even as he takes it upon himself to slide his coffee away. “It's weird.”

“Ah... Mama said I could, though.”

“I just -- look, that's not the point, asshole,” Izumi groans, and when Ritsu simply smiles and looks down to where his hands climb further up Izumi’s shirt, he feels like a fool for bringing it up in the first place. “My parents aren't going to be gone  _ that _ long, you know.”

“But they’re gone now,” Ritsu says, as though that somehow justifies his juvenile behaviour, “And it'll be quick. I promise.”

Izumi raises his brows at that. Sure, it's not like they haven't had quick sex before, but Ritsu wanting to do so at this hour -- first thing in the morning, sun already climbing into the sky and the smell of freshly ground coffee wafting through the air -- is almost unheard of. Still, as Ritsu just slightly grinds against him, beginnings of a hard-on pressed to Izumi’s ass and a whiny “Sec _chaaan_ ” falling past his lips, somehow the concept doesn't seem entirely unenticing. Besides, Ritsu has never once broken a promise; if nothing else, at least he's reliable in that regard.

It's with one last sigh that Izumi turns his head away, looking to the clock on the far wall rather than at the man behind him. There's still better times, better places for this, but Izumi’s already feeling just a bit too heated to bring himself to shove Ritsu away. “Fine,” he grumbles, already tilting his chin to the side and thus exposing his neck. “But if it takes too long, I’ll kill you.”

“Secchan’s so needy,” Ritsu chimes in response, one hand trailing down to toy with the waistband of Izumi’s sweats. Before Izumi can even think to protest or insist that they both know that's not what he meant, Ritsu leans forward, teeth just barely grazing the skin of Izumi’s neck as he begins to leave a small trail of open-mouthed kisses there. A soft sigh falls past Izumi’s lips, and he feels Ritsu’s own curve against him as his hand dips beneath Izumi’s sweats to rub small circles across the inside of his thigh. “Besides, I thought Secchan liked the thrill of almost getting caught...?”

“Not by my  _ parents _ , you idiot. Even Naru-kun catching us would be better than that.” 

“Hm... Do you want Nacchan to watch sometime, then? I don't really like sharing, but --”

“Kuma-kun,” Izumi says, voice just slightly hitching as Ritsu’s finger runs along the hem of his boxers. “Don't be annoying.”

And Ritsu  _ laughs _ , of all things, soft giggles bubbling against Izumi’s skin. He doesn't bother saying anything in reply, however, his other hand just barely grazing Izumi’s nipple -- a deliberate tease as always, damn him -- before sliding down to start tugging off his sweats and boxers. Izumi shifts appropriately, allowing the garments to pool around his ankles and just slightly shivering as the air makes contact with his bare legs. 

What Izumi doesn't expect is for Ritsu to sink down with his sweats, both hands moving to grip Izumi’s waist while Ritsu finds his balance on the balls of his feet. His brows crease, admittedly feeling a bit cheated by the sudden lack of Ritsu against him. The hold on his waist feels like nothing in comparison to the warmth of the other’s body or the teasing touches, but Izumi has no time to complain. It's as Izumi looks over his shoulder that Ritsu leans in to kiss and suckle at the back of his thigh, teeth sinking into the skin only when their eyes meet. There's something endlessly unfair about how Ritsu looks up at him then -- crimson eyes clearly aglow with an unspoken appreciation despite the long lashes veiling them -- that has Izumi dragging his own tongue along his bottom lip.

“You're so toned and pretty, Secchan,” Ritsu hums, though his voice is low and muffled when he presses another, softer kiss to Izumi’s leg. “It's okay if I just fuck your thighs, right? I've always kind of wanted to~”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Izumi says, far too quickly, far too desperate. 

But can he really be blamed, when he's already been wound up to the point that the thought of having Ritsu fuck him  _ anywhere  _ is enough to make his head spin with disgustingly eager anticipation? It's almost enough to make him forget where they are, and it's certainly enough to have Izumi’s eyes fluttering closed before he dazedly tries to press back and closer to Ritsu’s touch. The slight roll of his hips prompts another chuckle from the other’s lips, teeth teasingly tugging at Izumi’s skin while laughter rumbles deep in Ritsu’s throat. 

It's beyond humiliating, Izumi thinks, pushing back towards absolutely nothing as Ritsu bruises and marks his thighs however he likes. But even that sense of humiliation only riles him up further, stifling a weak moan when Ritsu’s bites become firmer and more insistent. 

Ritsu leans back, one hand still steadying itself against Izumi’s ass while the other drops away entirely. Izumi presumes it's to palm at his neglected hard-on, or to finally push away his own pajama pants and get  _ on  _ with things, but peeking down at him from the corner of his eye proves both theories wrong. Instead, Ritsu’s hand has slipped into his pocket, feeling around for just a moment before it resurfaces, small bottle in hand.

Straightening, Izumi can't help but gape at him.

“Why the  _ fuck _ ,” he starts, unable to look anywhere but at the lube Ritsu holds, “Do you have that with you?”

The smile that crosses Ritsu’s face then is painfully sly, but he doesn't make any immediate attempt at answering. He doesn't so much as glance back up at Izumi, almost uncharacteristically focused as his long and nimble fingers work to flick open the cap. Izumi’s eyes narrow, but when Ritsu leans back in, kissing the space just above Izumi’s hole, there's no real point in trying to be mad. Even though it was a  _ genuine fucking question  _ \-- really, what kind of idiot goes to visit his in-laws and thinks packing lube is a good idea -- perhaps he should be grateful for Ritsu’s apparent interest in getting on with things as opposed to carrying on their typical banter. 

There's no dwelling on that, though, not when Ritsu’s tongue swipes at Izumi and brings all thoughts to a staggering halt. The careful, deliberate strokes have Izumi feeling boneless, drawing him to lean over the counter -- his  _ parents _ ’ counter, a voice at the back of his head weakly chimes -- and press his cheek to the startlingly cold surface. Again, he pushes backward, rewarded by another delicate kiss and teasing squeeze from the hand that still holds him. 

It's too much, Izumi thinks, yet still not enough. He wants to feel more; to feel Ritsu’s warmth, to feel the swell of Ritsu’s cock. The next time Izumi rolls his hips back, it's far needier, far more desperate, and is shortly followed by a small, almost startled gasp from behind him.

“Kuma- _ kun _ ,” Izumi finally whines. “I told you, right? That they won't be gone for that long...”

“Mm...” 

Much to Izumi’s relief, Ritsu draws away. He doesn't look back, even if it's tempting to, but he can tell when Ritsu pulls himself up without it. If he had been unsure, Ritsu’s cock -- bare, meaning he had the good sense to kick away his pants on the way -- pressing into the crook of his ass when he cranes over him makes the change of position more than obvious. Despite himself, the contact has an indecipherable murmur slipping past his lips. An experimental roll of Ritsu’s hips prompts another, similar cry, and Izumi instinctively goes to cover his mouth when Ritsu presses more insistently against him.

“So pretty,” Ritsu purrs, breath fanning over Izumi’s neck and leaving goosebumps in its wake. There's a soft click as Ritsu sets something down on the counter -- the bottle of lube, Izumi realizes when Ritsu’s hands find Izumi’s thighs again, far slicker but just as teasing as before. “Secchan’s always so pretty for me...”

He coats Izumi with circular, rhythmic touches, clearly trying to be thorough as much as he's trying to taunt Izumi, but --

“We’re going to get  _ caught _ , asshole.” 

And again, Ritsu laughs. Still, his hands move to the outer area of Izumi’s legs instead, just gently applying pressure until Izumi shifts to press them together.

Though now that Ritsu’s brought attention to it, Izumi can't help but wonder how he looks. Dwelling on it is a dangerous thing. Thinking about it at all would mean acknowledging that he's bent over his parents’ kitchen counter, pajama pants and underwear pooled around his ankles, solely because he found himself caught up in Ritsu’s pace (as he almost always does, no matter how he might deny that being the case). That thought  _ shouldn't  _ turn him on, he angrily thinks, but that doesn't stop his dick from throbbing harder nonetheless. 

It seems to take far too long for Ritsu to slick up his own cock and slide it between Izumi’s legs, but a part of Izumi knows he's just grown too impatient. Fortunately, it's worth the wait. The warmth pressed between his thighs has Izumi biting back another moan even before Ritsu begins moving, slow and careful drag doing nothing but tease Izumi further.

“Time limit,” Izumi warns, though now that they're this far, it really is near-impossible to keep their location in mind. “Seriously, stop being so...  _ Oh _ \--”

Just one, firmer shove forward steals any further complaints right from Izumi’s tongue. Ritsu’s hands find Izumi’s waist again, grip tightening as he builds the pace towards something stronger, steadier. It's still not quite as purposeful as Izumi would like, but he can't find the mind to say as such when every other push has Ritsu’s tip brushing against the sensitive underside of Izumi’s balls. Now, he hardly has the mind for anything beyond trying to wiggle back towards him, can hardly think of anything beyond trying to get more of that godforsaken friction.

But then, Ritsu stills.

“Hey, Secchan,” Ritsu starts. Izumi groans, aggravated, but shoots him a half-hearted glare to let him know he's listening. “Get up onto the counter, facing me.”

“What?” Izumi tries to hiss, only for it to come out as little more than a tired sigh, “I thought you wanted to do it like this.”

“I did.” His hand slips from Izumi’s waist to pat the counter in front of them. “But Secchan’s being so cute... I wanna see your face.”

Izumi closes his eyes and pretends that he can't feel his ears flushing hot at the praise. “I can't get up like this,” he says, waiting for Ritsu to step back before hoisting himself onto the counter. It isn't until he's completely found his balance that Izumi looks up to Ritsu, bracing himself for the embarrassment that always comes along with having his face seen like this.

However, Ritsu’s gaze is very clearly pointed downwards.

Izumi half-heartedly kicks at him. He misses.

“That's not my face.”

Ritsu laughs, voice ringing short and low as he reaches to stroke him. “No,” he admits, “but Secchan’s just as pretty down here.”

There really isn't much Izumi can say to that, he thinks, only vaguely aware of his face burning when Ritsu’s tongue runs along his lip. The other’s free hand slides beneath Izumi’s thigh, feeling it up until he finds a solid enough grip to slowly begin pushing his leg backward. As tempting as it is not to, Izumi follows the movement, leaning back until he finds his back pressed to the countertop and his legs in the air. Ritsu hums his appreciation, squeezing at Izumi’s thigh before subtly pushing it towards the other. Izumi gets the hint, pressing his knees together without ever looking away from Ritsu’s face.

Now, at least, Ritsu seems more interested in going at a pace that's satisfactory for both of them, each push forward bringing forth more unintelligible pants and murmurs from their lips. As embarrassing as it is to be positioned like this, Izumi’s every reaction and expression on display, it's a fair exchange for being able to see the same from Ritsu. Dark bangs hang messily over half-lidded crimson eyes and sharp teeth dig into his own lip, so hard that a small part of Izumi worries that he'll end up drawing blood. It wouldn't be the first time he's done so, but by the time Ritsu goes to kiss him, Izumi’s too distracted by sensations elsewhere to keep his mouth pressed shut. His carelessness treats him to the tang of Ritsu’s blood on his tongue, and Izumi makes a face even as he winds his arms around the other’s neck to bring him ever closer.

It's as they kiss that Ritsu’s hand goes from the back of Izumi’s thigh and to his waist, his adjusted grip so firm that Izumi can almost already feel the forming bruise. And then again, the speed of his thrusts increases. It's definitely too much now, Izumi thinks. The combination of Ritsu’s cock sliding between his legs, the heavy breaths exchanged between their lips, the steady and precise jerks of Ritsu’s hand against his own dick is too much, has heat coiling unbearably in his stomach, it's far  _ too much  _ \--

“K -- _ Ritsu _ ,” he manages, though his voice sounds too high and strained as he comes. 

Ritsu’s attention to his dick doesn't falter, stroking out the last of Izumi’s orgasm even though he's clearly having issues keeping it together himself. It doesn't take long for the other’s careful ministrations to become unwelcome, however, suddenly overwhelming in a way that Izumi can't enjoy the same as he had just seconds before, and Izumi tugs on Ritsu’s hair to let him know as such. Another day -- or night, as the case may be -- it wouldn't be unusual for Ritsu to ignore his warning, for him to wring out every broken cry and sob Izumi could possibly give. But perhaps Ritsu is aware of their time limit after all, since his hand slides away from Izumi’s cock and to the other side of his waist as he focuses on pursuing his own climax.

“Ahn... Y-you really came,” Ritsu slurs, and if they weren't so accustomed to one another, Izumi would wonder how he still has the energy to tease. “I probably didn't even have to jerk you off, mm? You're always...”

What Ritsu plans to say, Izumi will never know for sure. He has his guesses, of course, but it doesn't matter. It  _ can't  _ matter, not as Ritsu pushes against him one last time with a broken groan, spilling across Izumi’s thighs and the counter beneath him.

The counter beneath him.

That's. Going to be a problem.

Ritsu sighs, grip loosening on Izumi’s waist in favour of letting his hands splay against him as he slumps forward and buries his nose in the crook of Izumi’s neck. He at least has the good grace to not become a total dead-weight on top of Izumi, but he's heavy enough that Izumi narrows his eyes down at him anyways. Now that he's essentially come down from his afterglow, Izumi is just a bit too conscious of the mess splattered across his legs and stomach to be in the mood for cuddling, yet the press of Ritsu’s body still isn't entirely unwelcome. 

His hands thread themselves through Ritsu’s hair, careful and worn strokes that he knows could very well put the other to sleep. “You're disgusting.”

“Mm... So are you,” Ritsu murmurs. That's the most Izumi expects from him, and finds himself surprised when Ritsu lifts his head to meet Izumi’s gaze. “Thanks, I~zu~mi... I r _ eee _ ally love you...”

“Now you're just trying to be gross,” Izumi grumbles in reply. “But, ugh, yeah. I love you, too.”

Ritsu hums, both sated and content, and Izumi still can't bring himself to push the other away. Perhaps his parents will be out a bit longer, he thinks. Perhaps there will be time for them to clean themselves, their clothes, and his parents’ godforsaken kitchen before they return. Most importantly, perhaps there will be time for Izumi to stop thinking about the details of where they are at all.

Izumi prays with all his heart that such will be the case.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at @ritsuleoizu on twitter for more unconditional ritsu love 
> 
> as always, comments/kudos/bookmarks are appreciated!! thank you for reading （=´∇｀=）


End file.
